I was just sitting here shimmering, hoping for some small consultation. We’ve got three times the sultry shapes for you. Still you seek the answers. In busy thoroughfares, carnivals of chaos. Fertile fields warm with laughter.
I have the feathers to fly, but you must provide the sky. Heaven shallows to our shore, and soon come the angels to claim their wings.

the smile divine never trying
revealed in languid rapture
grin of all life’s flavors relying
the egg omniversal hatched
patterns of all woven together
across vibrations resonant strings
to dissonant fulfillment from the darkest nether
cacophone and back rhapsody brings
in many ways of wile
just at but without guile
beatific
be at if ic
smile

(this series is incorporate with my current novel, ergo style is subject to story)

the cave changes the cave of changes
exodus strange chamber to chamber
no exit from self strange or stranger
dark revelations feeling the way
past irrelevantions contentions
but not to be bested
forfeiting what's contested
never surrender turned under by the toil
knowing nothing of what it's all about
but this is seed gestating from soil
driving surviving to sprout
skydiving from underground up
don't ask me how for now
gopher hare snake worm
they are wiser of your way
though I've heard them whisper
down is never out

While he pours, “You wanna talk about it, Brent?”
“I’m not even sure what it is. I met this girl – this woman – the other day.”
Shrewd boggled eyes, “Wait, you want advice on women? ‘Cause you can ask my wife: I haven’t got a clue. Should we get Betty in on this? Hey, Betty –”
“It’s not about the woman.”
“All right, well, set the scene for me.”
Swilling his java, “Okay. Ummm. I just saw her at the cemetery. I think the funeral was for – well, someone she was really close to. She was pretty upset. Family, I guess.”
Clearly disturbed, “Is this normal for you?”
“What?”
“Funeral first dates?”
Flustered grin, “No, I didn’t go there for the funeral. I just saw her and followed the cars, you know?”
Ready to balk, “No. No, I don’t. Forget the scene, what was the thing that upset you?”
“She seemed really weird, like she didn’t know me. And then I thought I was the weird one, because I sort of crashed her relative’s funeral.”
“Sounds like you got that one straight.”
“I just don’t even know which way is up anymore, Percy. I don’t know what to believe in. I’m seeing things. I can’t even trust my own senses. I act on the impulse of thinking I connected with somebody,” with his best defense, “She gave me her number. I’m not even sure she remembered meeting me at all.”
“You’ve never had a death of someone you really cared about, have you?”
“Well, actually, yeah. Coach Thompson.”
“Ah. Jerry. God rest. Okay. When he passed on, was it just business as usual?”
“Of course not. I just thought – ”
Looking, waiting.
With the realization, sobered, “I just thought about myself. Duh, she just met me. At the depot, she told me not to call her right away.”
Silently, Percy watches him, with an ‘I knew you could’ not-quite smugness.
“Thanks, Percy.”
“No problem.”
“Before I was confused. Now I feel like a complete idiot.”
Wily smile, “Anytime.”
They eye each other quietly across the counter, one abashed, the other affirming. They share a chuckle.
Clapping him on the shoulder with his incomplete right hand, “Feeling like a complete idiot is the universe’s way of letting you know you learned something important.”
“It’s not just the universes’ way of letting me know I’m an idiot?” Draining the cup. “Boy that’s good coffee.” Percy stands at the ready with the pot and a querying gaze. “Fill ‘er up. Hell, Irish ‘er up.”
Percy looks him dubiously square, “Seriously?”
“No. Just goes to show what a mess I am.”
“You’re of age and it’s after noon. But, personally, I don’t think you need it.”
“I don’t. I just think I’d like an excuse to go with my folly, ya know?”
“Folly? I thought it was called testosterone.”
“At the moment it feels like ignorance.”
“What is it you’re supposed to know?”
“Where I’m going. Where I’ve been. What it means.”
“How old are you, Brent?” At this Brent pauses, calculating, “Boy, you are a mess! Point being, even if you were old as Methuselah, life would still throw you for a loop now and again. And young as you are, it’s probably more often than not.”
“Which was fine when I was 2 or 12 or 20, but I should have figured something out by now.”
“Like you can’t live your life for your father?”
Downcast coming to grips, “Yeah.”
“Well, you figured it out, right?”
“I just … it’s like an embarrassment. No matter what wisdom I’ve gained, there’s a lack of knowledge – seems like it should be there. Like with my Dad. I always resented his control in my life, even as a kid. But this may be the first move I’ve made in my life that I didn’t submit for his approval. I’ve spent so long being Bill Holland’s son, now that I’ve finally decided to be myself, I don’t even know what that is.”
“Who knows everything there is to know? Most of us, we just get by with what we got.” Gesturing first to his heart, then his head, “And what you know in here, is far more important than what you know up here.”
Reversing the sequence with himself, Brent replies, “Well, what’s up here is pretty realistic. My views, my outlook on the world, life. But this here? This seems pretty idealized. A lot of childish naiveté.”
“I think I see what the problem is. Well, part of it anyway.”
“What?”
“Well, your views, your outlook, would you call those your values?”
“Sure.”
“And your ideals, aren’t those like, your higher goals, higher purpose?”
Reflecting, “Yeah, okay. They are.”
“Well, I think maybe you’re keeping your right mind in the wrong box.”

follows is excerpts from my first novel, that my x characterized as 'james bond on acid'

<<< copyright D Farley 2002 all rights reserved >>>


White Goddess - Act 1 - Calling Down the Muse - Scene 1 - The Delta bar / Night

The bar lights reflected through the musing panes. In mirror reflections shine the beer-signs, then the bar, then the patrons. An older man in a black cloak flashes in the doorway, and is gone with a flourish. A bar called The Delta.

I knew her face and her fate: she was my mirror, she was to be mine. She looks nothing like me, but we see in eachother’s eyes the light of understanding, as completely as we understand ourselves, we understand eachother. One true love, true enough to last.

My mirror was shared by a sultry crowd. As always, an imminent degree of voyeurism and vice. This one more elegant than usual. And a memory of a face, sitting next to a face from my memory. Beautiful woman, love the dress. Red.

This drunk sitting next to me was rambling about the perfect beauty, the temporal beauty, then I lost interest, but he didn’t. I always prefer a willing audience, and my will tonight, not new, was to be alone. That woman really reminds me of...Rose ...what’s up with that? She’s lingered in my memory six some years, and that guy looked familiar too, where’d he –

> Can I help you?

> Ahhhummm. Uh, no. No, I’m cool, thanks.

> Well I couldn’t help notice you staring at my companion, would you like to meet her?

This face, this familiar face. I knew this man, but his eyes said something beyond the familiar. In fact, they said nothing to me at all, but they seemed to see right through all the drunken delusions that permeated the bar crowd. Reflected in these eyes was a sense of complete control or, more exactly, a complete loosing of control.

I had seen that look only twice before with such an utter clarity. Once, in the mirror, in my own eyes. And once before, in these eyes that now stared into mine.

> I know you remember me, but you don’t seem to have remembered what got you here. What’s on your mind, Job? The future, the past? Having a hard time with their intersection in the present?

Tracing vague maps of memory > My name’s not…Job?…I knew you once…< but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

> You didn’t know her, but you’d sure like to.

> Who is she?

> You’re more interested in her than anything else aren’t you? The barfly there has some interesting things to say…I’ve been listening…you could learn something from him.

Who was this man that he could hear from that far away? Oh, my god…> You’re Aris.

Impossible eons passed in the six years since we last parted.

> It’s coming back to you.

Yes, the first time, seeing those eyes, they saved me from losing my mind. As I regained a grasp of my reality, that was so close to slipping from my apprehension so many years ago. I really couldn’t believe this very same man stood in front of me now.
Standing suddenly across the room, before this woman, this rose.

> Don’t look so surprised, or at least snap out of it enough to say hello. Carla, say hello to Job. < Aris then orders another round.

> JB, it’s JB. Hi, Carla, it’s a pleasure to meet you.

Cordial, with intrigue > To meet me? Aren’t you thinking of someone else? Who do I remind you of?

> Well, you remind me of another place and time. It seems like a dream, it’s so far back in my past.

> Well, I’m not a dream, I’m real < standing up leaning toward JB > and I have real urges...

Momentarily seduced > Urges?

> I have to use the bathroom. < Exits.

> JB? How long have you gone by that?

> Most of my life. You’re about the only person who knew me as Job. < JB is watching Carla, awe struck.

> She’s an enchanting woman, I understand why you’re enthralled, but she’s not for you. How can you expect to honestly meet a woman if you’re so star struck? Jesus, Job, we meet again after six years, and you’re caught up in a dream about some woman you’ve never met.

> It’s JB, please, and the dream isn’t about her.

> No? Look, Job – < Checked by a look from JB, Aris concedes > JB, are you still looking for one true love?

Shocked to have his thoughts read so easily > You never believed in it did you? You’ve never been in love?

> Once, just for a few weeks, then I spent about six months looking like you do. Looking to recapture it, trying to find it again in the eyes of any woman with the least bit of attraction for me. And I learned it was the looking that was frustrating me from what would make it all better. You need to get laid my friend...

Caustically > You think that’s what I need? That’ll just make things better?

> No, but that bear needs to come out of the cave after such a long winter – and I’m not talking about the animal in your pants.

Carla returns, JB is again lust-bound, and a knowing look from Aris leaves him flustered.

> So, Aris, what are you doing with you life? Still making music?

> Producing, in fact. You still writing poetry? Of course you are, so you’re still broke too?

Server sets fresh drinks on their table. JB buys the drinks.

> Broke’s a state of mind. Money’s not a problem, yet, but I’m between opportunities right now. < He throws the bills on the tray, the eye on the pyramid.

> Best place to be, even if you are getting paid. By the way, money is the problem JB, for everybody < JB’s questioning glance, followed by Aris’ confirming pause > but let’s not jump into politics.

> Aris, let’s go back to your place, I’m sure your friend would love to come.

> Yeah, and at least the drunken lechery there is better acquainted. How about it, JB? Want to come back to a my place? We’re having a little party tonight.

> What’s the occasion?

> Now is the occasion.

Aris leads out the door.

JB > Who are you?

While Eli slides a fake portion of wall back, revealing a sort of locker room inside, Rose asks > Have you heard of ELF?

JB > You’re with the Earth Liberation Front?

> Not exactly. What about A A ?

> I assume you don’t mean Alcoholics Anonymous?

Eli laughs as he pulls some clothes out of a locker, handing them to JB > Right. These groups have operated and organized in the controlled chaos that is consciously subversive politics and ideologies in America in the 20th century. Bringing the near-anarchist free thinkers together is harder than herding cats. Learning by their example, or rather, their failure to organize unhindered by Operation CHAOS, COINTELPRO’s, or the like, we are literally the first non-organization fighting the leviathan of the establishment to change the world for the better. We have no membership, no direct network, no lodge, no rituals, no passwords, and the only secrets are our own, each individuals’.

> So why even refer to yourselves collectively?

Rose helps JB, holding the other clothes while he sheds the elfin booties and puts on the pants > Because we know we’re out there, we know we’re not alone. We are the true subversives, JB. We don’t organize as a group or try to identify ourselves with any particular platform or cause. We truly believe that every individual needs to be ultimately free. Bound neither to country, clan, or code. Free to and free from.

Eli finds a pair of boots and, eyeballing JB for size, passes them to him > We do have one thing in common, that keeps us connected. And this is what makes our silent revolution, truly secret, for the most part, and truly unique.

JB is dressed, and puts on the shoes > What’s that?

Rose and Eli stand, silently, intently looking at JB.

After a reflective pause, JB smiles > You’re pioneers of the psychic revolution?

Eli > 'Free your mind' has a whole different meaning to us.

Rose > As does 'feed your head'.

JB > Wait a minute, you’re talking about a revolution for what, psychic rights?

Eli > Psychic power is just part of it, though realizing the untapped powers of the mind is at the heart of it. If I were inclined to give it a name, which I’m not, I’d call it the revolution of magic. We’re talking about a revolution that takes consciousness to the next level. Not just for us, but for everybody. < He steps into the locker room and releases another catch, opening the far wall of the locker room to reveal a long dark passageway.

Rose > That’s why we come off as mystics rather than political subversives. Have you heard any theories about what’s supposed to happen when the Mayan calendar ends in 2012 of the Gregorian?

JB > No.

> We have lots to talk about, but let’s get out of here, now.

Several feet and fists start pounding on the stage above, hard. This motivates them, and they move through the locker room into the tunnel.

Eli > It’s definitely time to go. < Closing his eyes momentarily, then decided > Our friends are converging in the bayou a few miles outside of Phoenix. A house is burning.